


Let the Light Into My Soul and Scrub the Dirt Out With Your Hands

by ceilingfan5



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Cleaning, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay Introspection, M/M, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cheer you up, coming home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10122908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5
Summary: A little pick-me-up for the biggest noiao shipper I know. Noiz likes to watch Aoba clean; it makes him feel like he's got a home he belongs in.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coolangelsthesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolangelsthesis/gifts).



> This is for Sammy (coolangelsthesis on here or @noiaos on twitter) who needed some serious cheering up. If you love noiao, check out her work or message her and gush for a while! She's my hard-working beta and my best friend, so she deserves all the love you can fit in her inbox. The title is from a poem I never finished. I thought it was appropriate...

Aoba insisted that they clean the house themselves. He also insisted that it made them better, more responsible people who are less likely to end up living amongst piles of frozen pasta meal tins and empty pizza box refuse like domestic raccoons, which Noiz took offense to, though not enough to change his ring-tailed ways. Of all of the things that Noiz was talented at, cleaning was not one of them. 

So Aoba tended to clean their place up himself. 

They still had a housekeeping service come in once a week, but for the most part, a lot of it fell to him. He didn’t mind, really. It was a good way to clear his head and organize his thoughts, and when Noiz was busy, it kept him occupied. Sure, he liked to tease Noiz for not helping him, but he rather enjoyed tying his hair back and singing while he swept the floors or dusted. He never would have admitted it, but it made him feel sort of like a Disney princess, and that was a dream worth chasing once in awhile.

What Aoba did not know was that Noiz liked to watch him do this. Noiz liked to watch Aoba do just about anything, of course, but there was something special about watching him clean. The classic maid look was good (very good) and he wouldn’t lie, he was into the lace and obedience aesthetic, but this wasn’t really it. This sort of magic Aoba brought out every other sunny afternoon was soft and bright and happy and...domestic. 

God, he was into it. It made him feel weird, weird in a good way. Tingly, Aoba would say. It felt good just to watch him, for some reason. Noiz’s mother and father never would have climbed on footstools to reach the ceramic rabbits on the top of their bookshelf or sing Japanese pop songs into the mop handle or bounce around, half-dancing in the living room like he’d never been more at home anywhere. There was no comparison, no reason to bother. It was black and white, or black and sunshine yellow, the sucking darkness of a void or the professional dark grey of heartless business compared to a something lemony fresh and smiling like a child’s drawing of a sun. 

It made Noiz’s chest hurt in the best way, watching Aoba like that. He was beautiful and his hair kept getting longer and messier and Noiz adored it, loved running his hands through it like silk and pulling Aoba in for dozens of kisses and he would give the world, no holds barred, just to see him smile like that. He’d kill or die for that bright smile, almost already had, and every time it blinded the grime out of his shitty, neglected raccoon soul like the shining brilliance of an angel’s halo. 

The fact that he didn’t have to give anything to get something so priceless still couldn’t sink in. What had he ever done to deserve this? How could he have gone from a life of dingy, lonely nothingness to this shining, feeling, warm and domestic and welcoming world? It was easy to feel like he didn’t belong there, didn’t belong in a happy world where people had loving families or home-cooked meals or a tight grip that didn’t hurt or the ability to hurt, but the option to heal-- but time after time, Aoba reached into the garbage pit he’d dug himself into, brushed the dirt off, and pulled him out into a embrace he’d never dared to dream of before with the intention to keep him there. 

It felt cheesy, getting worked up over watching his husband dance around in those yellow short-shorts with the palm trees on the ass, his shirt riding up and giving his lone spectator a sneak peek of those glass-cutting hip bones when he stood on his tip-toes to get the highest cobwebs. Sexy, maybe, but...he couldn’t put a name to it. It went in that category he put all of the other Aoba stuff in: home, heartache, love, safety, feeling…

For years he’d lived like a wild animal locked in a too-small zoo, pacing back and forth, his cage only cleaned for appearances and his shit-stinking hovel, seen by no one, a crime against living creatures that no one ever protested. The fact that someone, an unpaid, loving someone, cared enough to make his home bright and clean and warm and pleasant-smelling was...Well, it was something he never could have expected. But Aoba had a way of surprising him. 

“Sorry, have you been standing there long?” Aoba pulled his candy pink headphones off of his ears and hung them around his neck, turning to give Noiz a warm, casual smile. “Welcome home, Noiz.”

Noiz had enough with words. In the end, it was action that mattered, wasn’t it? 

He pulled Aoba into a kiss and felt the resulting embrace sink something magical and golden straight into his bones.

**Author's Note:**

> I need to step up in the writing department (thanks, mental illness) but my fic blog on tumblr is fan5fics and you can find me in the wild on twitter @ceilingfan5.


End file.
